


Glowing

by ehvayo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teachers, Artist Steve Rogers, Bearded Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Embarrassed Steve Rogers, Established Relationship, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Steve Rogers, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Shy Steve Rogers, Stucky - Freeform, Teacher Steve, Teacher Steve Rogers, Winter Soldier Bucky Barnes, but just the looks, steve looks like he did in infinity war and bucky in the winter soldier, they're so cute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-18
Updated: 2018-09-18
Packaged: 2019-07-13 23:02:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16027820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ehvayo/pseuds/ehvayo
Summary: High schoolers like to gossip about what’s hiding under their gorgeous art teacher’s grandpa clothes.-Or when Steve accidentally took Bucky’s laptop with him to class and his background, a picture of Steve and him at the beach, appeared on full display on the board.





	Glowing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic on ao3, hope you enjoy it!
> 
> English isn’t my first language so excuse any mistake you see. Don’t hesitate to point them out to me so I can correct them.
> 
> Translation in Chinese available, thanks to the lovely yoosimi. Click here to read.

Lunch pose would be over in a few minutes, and Steve didn't waste a minute to start tidying and cleaning the remaining stains and dirty brushes students forgot to wash before they hurriedly headed to get food. He crossed the room to the shelves below the large windows that illuminated the room and gently laid the tonearm of his record player on the vinyl he had previously chosen, letting the soft music fill the room. He put the brushes in a cup to dry and went to wipe a table with a wet cloth, humming happily to the music and swaying in hips lightly it was barely noticeable.

 

“He's such a cutie pie,” breathed a blond girl dreamily to her friend, standing against the door of the room.

 

Steve Rogers was all students' favorite teacher, passionate, smiling all year round, and supportive of everyone. Not only was he in love with what he talked about, but he was also what everyone thought a _cool_ teacher was. He liked to chat with his students, cracking jokes as '40s music played in the background. And his good looks were certainly a plus. It wasn't rare to see some sign themselves for his class even if they weren't even that interested art. Steve, however, oblivious as ever, happily took them him, seeing them as a new mind to make discover about _Renoir_ and art techniques.

 

Soon the bell rang, and he spun around, confused as if he had lost track of time.

 

“Hey Mr. Rogers!” her friend exclaimed as he set his eyes on them.

 

Smiling with the usual slight blush that seemed to always creep his way to the apple of his cheeks he chuckled shyly. “Hi girls, didn't see you there.”

 

They giggled before making their way into the class, sitting at their usual sit.

 

“He really is...” she sighed.

 

-

 

Steve wore grandpa clothes that made teenagers gossip about. It was strange, considering his physique but also seemed completely him. He was tall and always had his soft blond hair slicked back. His baby blues eyes radiant whenever he smiled, which was practically all the _damn_ time. He also had a beard he liked to rub whenever he concentrated or was embarrassed. The man always wore khakis and a too big shirt, hiding his body.

 

They liked to talk about what was hiding under those odd fitting shirts of his. Some telling them that he probably spent his time drawing and wasn't the sporty type while another one swore he was as he “ _saw him run real fast with a black dude, like nice good-looking fella, didn't even seem outta breath.”_

 

That didn't keep girls and boys alike from swooning over him, to how cute and oblivious of it he was.

 

A while back, a group of girls had initiated a challenge of trying to get a glimpse of his body. They had too many times put art supplies on the top shelves, making him stretch to reach whatever paint brushes he thought some students had accidentally forgotten there. Sadly, he always wore his shirts neatly tucked inside his pants, making their faces fall each time when they realized it wasn't going to “incidentally” rise up.

 

Their second try was last June. It wasn't rare for students to get him small gifts for his birthday. Whenever he received one, he smiled so brightly it seemed like he had won the lottery. He cherished each gift, always using them or putting them on display in class or at home. Seeing as he was born during summer vacation, they usually gave him gifts during the last week of school, as an early birthday. Their plan in mind, the girls had headed to his desk, gift in hands.

 

“Happy early birthday, Captain America!” one of them cheered, causing him to laugh and blush slightly. He had earned this name a few years back when students had found out that he was born on the 4th of July.

 

“Thanks, girls,” he replied gently.

 

“We got something for you!” added another, placing the small packaging on his desk.

 

Biting on his lower lip, he took it in his hands.

 

“Thank you, I really appreciate it,” he thanked them with a genuine and somewhat shy smile.

 

“Wear it tomorrow Cap,” one of them jokingly ordered.

 

“Promise,” he replied with a grin. 

 

However, when he came in class the next morning, what he was wearing looked nowhere near the shirt they had got him. His eyes scanned the class, and he came towards them, looking apologetic.

 

“Why...” started one of the girls, confused.

 

“I'm so sorry, I think you got the wrong size, they probably mixed them up, 'fitted a bit too small,” he apologized with a sad smile.

 

“ _A bit too small”_ wasn't saying much. The white shirt they had bought was as tight as a second skin, hugging every one of his muscles and leaving nothing to the imagination.

 

“Oh, that's too bad,” they said but what they meant was “ _Yeah, that was the point.”_

 

Finally, they decided to change their tactic and settled on a new plan.

 

During a particularly hot day, they claimed to be cold, so he wouldn't open the window or turn on the fan. To no one's surprise, he feared that they were sick and grew concerned, refusing to take the chance to worsen their cold he held the windows closed even after one his student complained that “ _we’re dyin' in there Mr. Rogers, can't even hold my pen without it slippin' from my hands, 'is all sweaty an' gross.”_

 

Steve silently agreed but stayed at his desk, suffering through the heat. At long last, he finally rolled up his sleeves, not much past his wrist, showing off was seemed to be a toned forearm. “ _Yeah, hotter than hell,”_ mischievously mumbled another.

 

-

 

Steve cleared his throat, bringing his student's attention to him.

 

“Class, today, we'll start a new project. I haven't got time to study all of your projects on the last theme, but I already went through some and I already can say how proud of you I am,” he smiled at a few students, making a girl bat her lashes as he looked in her direction.

 

Without noticing her, he continued. “Before we begin, I'd like to study with you _Soleil couchant sur la Seine à Lavacourt, Effet d'Hiver,”_ he told them in the best French accent he could master, which was actually pretty good, “which is the original title and the French for _Sunset on the Seine at Lavacourt, Winter Effect_ by Monet, lemme' just...”

 

He went to his desk and crouched next to it, rummaging through his bag. Getting a hold of his laptop, he swiftly put in on his desk and typed repeatedly on the space bar, as the screen wasn't lighting up.

 

“Does anyone know how this thing works?” he mumbled under his breath.

 

“You gotta turn in on first, sir,” someone said, humor dripping from their voice.

 

“Oh...” he replied sheepishly, his cheeks heating up and earning a few chuckles.

 

Steve stood up to grab the cable he needed to connect his laptop to the projector from where they were all tangled together. He looked at them unsure, before realizing he had been standing there too long and going with the red one.

 

He went back to his desk, after turning the projector on, and plugged it into his laptop and pressed the “on” button for a few seconds. Waiting for it to turn on, he turned to his class, who were all chatting among themselves. He reached for his notes when he suddenly heard all chats die down. He frowned at his students, who were all looking behind him with a curious glance, mouth slightly open, some girls giggling. A few stopped staring to look at him, a smirk on their face.

 

Confused, he turned around, where he was met with the background of the laptop, a picture of him and Bucky smiling right at him, the ocean in the background. He remembered the day as if it were yesterday, it was too hot, and they had decided to go to the beach with Sam and Natasha, who were the one taking the picture.

 

The students stared at it in disbelief. There, on the picture was Steve, cute, shy Mr. Rogers, in the arms of a man with a metal arm, at the beach, wearing swim trunks.

 

They all had conspired about what he really looked like, and _man_ were they not disappointed. The blond beauty was smiling at the camera, an arm draped around the shoulder of the other guy. He was all hard muscles, shining under the sun. If they thought they had seen him happy before, now he seemed like he was _glowing_.

 

The other man was about his height, if not slightly smaller, his flesh hand wrapped around the small of Steve's back while his metal arm was hanging stiffly by his side. His long dark hair still wet from the ocean and his piercing grey-blue eyes looked like they would have been an assassin look if he was not looking at Steve so lovingly.

 

They all had seen love on TV and in those teen romance movie like _Grease_. It all had seemed dreamy but looking at the picture, it now seemed dull, tame. Never had they seen someone looking so happy and complete in someone else's arms.

 

A wild lock of blond hair rested on their teacher's forehead, slightly hiding one of his eyes, which were rivaling with the sun. A few droplets of water sprinkled his chest and strong biceps, and they could almost see them slide down to his defined abs.

 

“ _Damn, he looks like a dorito_ ,” muttered a student a bit too loud, as it seemed to bring Steve out of his trance.

 

He snatched the red cable out of the computer, his face turning a shade darker. The blond rushed to turn off the projector, making the image fade but no matter how hard he pressed the button, it was still noticeably visible on the board. He clicked panicked on every button, hoping to make it go away and opened an internet page to hide the background but the picture remained. 

 

“ _Jesus_ ,” Steve groaned in his hands.

 

It didn't take long for memories from this very morning to flash through his head. He had almost been late, having cuddled with Bucky a bit too long, refusing to let him go from his arms and get up. He had rushed to gather his things, shoving what he thought were his computer in his bag without looking back.

 

The thing was, when Bucky and he had gone to the store to buy one, they had had the brilliant idea to buy the same one “ _It'll feel just like we're home watching a movie on my computer whenever you use it,”_  Bucky had told him, to what Steve had happily agreed, like the infatuated  dumb idiot he is.

 

However, this decision had caused him to grab the wrong computer this morning and led him to this embarrassing situation.

 

Suddenly, Steve realized that he was still in his room, surrounded by students who were now chatting vividly among themselves, probably discussing how inappropriate it was or making fun of him. He didn't hear the giggles of the girls in the back or the nasty comments some made involving him and a bed.

 

He pushed his hands farther into his hands, giving a low moan of embarrassment. The sound alone was enough for the whole class to stop talking instantly.

 

When they looked back at him, it was as if his shirt had suddenly become transparent, as if they could see each one of his muscles flex under his shirt. A few blushed slightly at the sight. _Could he get any more perfect?_

 

“I...” he began, feeling all eyes on him, “I'm so sorry, I-  I took the wrong computer this morning and I-” he sheepishly rambled.

 

Standing up straighter he continued. “You're probably all thinking how inappropriate this is...”

 

He finally looked at them in the eye and immediately felt better when he saw that they weren't looking at him with disgusted faces but smiling sweetly at him.

 

“It's okay Mr. Rogers, really, we don't mind,” someone said, getting a slap on his arm by the friend who was sitting next to him in return.

 

He rolled his eyes. “What I mean-”

 

He didn't get the chance to continue as a light knock was heard in the otherwise silent room.

 

“Stevie?” a raspy voice said, although it sounded soft and gentle. The door opened, revealing the man from the picture, the same looking computer as their teacher had in hand.

 

He was dressed all in black and his icy eyes lost all their warmth the second he saw that the classroom wasn't empty but rather full of teenagers staring at him.

 

When his eyes laid upon the picture on the board and the blushing Steve next to it, his frown eased and his lips stretched into a smirk.

 

He made his way over to the desk, his metal arm swinging stiffly in the air with each step he took, the old music still playing in the background. He rapidly scanned the panel on the wall and confidently pressed a few buttons, making the picture disappear.

 

The man took the computer that was on the desk in one of his hand and put down the one he brought with him instead. Then, he cupped the blond's face in his metal hand and tenderly kissed his cheek.

 

“Didn't forget to take a computer with you after all,” he rasped in that deep voice of his.

 

He was out of the room in the blink of an eye, leaving a furiously blushing Steve behind, his mouth slightly open.

 

“Well _damn_ ,” muttered someone, awestruck.

 

“He looks like a cute awkward art kid stuck inside a superhero body,” was heard.

 

“ _Shut up he's precious,”_ was shot back.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked it, comment and leave kudos if you feel like it.


End file.
